Butterflies flitted in my belly. I knew I had to man up and tell her why I was here. “Dane came over.”
She started, then twisted her hands in her lap. “What’d he want?”
“He was…upset.”
The only part of her that moved was her eyelids as she blinked at me.
“He was crying,” I added.
She looked away, and I noticed her sharp jawline as she swallowed.
I ran my hands down my thighs as I tried to ignore the tightness in my throat. “I’ve never seen him cry before. It was hard to watch.”
“Did he say anything?” Her voice seemed shrill. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth like she was fighting with herself. “About why he was crying?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Her eyes opened, and she let out a breath.
But I figured it out. Would saying that out loud destroy her? It seemed like keeping her secret was far more destructive, and I needed to apologize for not being there for her. I wanted her to know I was on her side. I wanted her to know she could trust again.
“Dane didn’t tell me,” I said. She met my eyes. “But I figured out the truth.”
It looked like she’d stopped breathing.
“The swimmer guy raped you.”
Her eyes opened wide as her mouth formed a frightened circle. She didn’t move.
I gentled my voice. “That’s what happened the night of that party, right? I’m so sorry.”
She bolted off the sofa, and her eyes flared at me. “How’d you know that?”
I leaned back in the chair as I watched her fists clench. “You’ve been acting so scared since the party. I’m sorry I left you there. You were drinking. I should’ve taken care of you. This must be awful for you.”
“You don’t know anything.” Her fists trembled. “You don’t know what it’s like. What’re you here for? To tell me how stupid I am?”
“No.” When I got to my feet, she backed away from me. Her fear made me sick.
Johnny’s voice came from the hallway. “Need help in there?”
“We’re okay,” I called. That was a lie. She looked anything but okay.
She covered her mouth. “Does Johnny know, too?”
“No.” I waited a moment. “But Lucia overheard me talking to Dane.”
“Great, just great! Why’re you here, Teo? To tell me I should’ve known better?” Her voice shook, and she pushed her fingers into her riot of hair.
“Jess, no.” I fought the urge to go to her, to take her in my arms. “I just want you to know you’re not alone in this.”
She inhaled a staccato breath, and her face crumpled. She started crying.
“You’ve kept it secret, and you’ve been all alone.” My chest hurt watching her cry. “Que sepas que estoy aquí.”
“I-I-I don’t know what that means.” She sniffed. “Dane’s better at Spanish than me.”
“I want you to know I’m here.”
Her shoulders sagged as her anger deflated, replaced by endless hurt and loss.
She sank into the sofa and drew her feet up on the edge of the cushion. Her forehead rested on her knees.
I could hear her sobs, and they were killing me. “Can I…?”
Her choppy breaths made her chest jump up and down as she looked up at me with glimmering eyes.
“Can I sit next to you?”
She nodded. Her tears kept flowing, darkening the knees of her jeans.
I didn’t know what to do as I slid in beside her. She’d been angry, then had shied away from me. But sitting here doing nothing wasn’t right, either. I placed my right hand between us. After a moment, I raised my arm, let it hover over her, then took a risk and cupped her opposite shoulder.
I exhaled as she leaned into my touch. She kept crying. When she nudged toward me and twisted around, I wasn’t sure what was happening. In a flash she’d curled up in my lap, her right cheek on my collarbone and her hands folded together under my chin. Her legs extended from my lap, and her feet pressed against the opposite armrest.
Cautiously, I wrapped my arms around to cocoon her in my hold. Her hair smelled like chlorine and fresh flowers. She’d bestowed a beautiful gift by crawling into my lap, and I didn’t want to screw up her trust in me.
She began to cry harder. I tried to think of what my mother would say when I was scared during a diabetes crash. “Tranquila,” I murmured, closing my eyes. I smoothed my hand down her hair. “Things will get better, Jess.” She probably didn’t believe that now, but I hoped it would be true.
I could’ve prevented all of this pain, if I’d only stayed at that party. If only I hadn’t left. Her cries sliced into me, piercing my heart.
Pressing her cheek to my chest, I rocked her. Her tears kept coming, but I wouldn’t let myself cry. She cried enough for both of us. “Tranquila.” I held her tight as we rocked together.
Chapter 15
WITH ONLY TEN SECONDS REST, I barely had time to look up to the spectator area of the natatorium before my next two-hundred-yard repeat. Mateo still sat there, flanked by his agents. His concentration seemed intense as he scribbled in a notebook. Wondering what he was working on, I pushed off the wall in a tight streamline and began an undulating dolphin kick.
It had been two weeks since he’d discovered my secret, and he hadn’t missed an afternoon practice since. A couple of days he’d arrived late from class, but his steady presence had calmed me all the same.
I came up to lane leader Elyse’s feet on the freestyle and finished right behind her.
“You go first,” she panted.
The senior captain wanted me to lead the lane? My shoulders lifted with surprise, but there wasn’t time to debate. I pushed off the wall to begin the next individual medley swim. Butterfly wasn’t my best stroke, but I was pleased to notice Elyse nowhere near me as I turned on my back for the second fifty. After backstroke came my best stroke—breaststroke—and I extended my lead before bringing it home with a fifty freestyle.
“Good, Jess,” Kathy shouted as I finished the fourth two hundred. I glanced at the pace clock and breathed hard while waiting for the sendoff. “Make number five your best one.”
A surge of energy pulsed through my limbs, keeping me high in the water with a nice rhythm for the butterfly. I maintained a snappy tempo for the backstroke, and worked on aggressive thrusts in breaststroke. After I finished the last of the eight lengths with freestyle, I hugged the wall and panted. From the other side of the pool, Kathy smiled.
Mateo no longer looked at his notebook, but instead stared at me. I couldn’t read his expression.
“Nice, freshman,” Elyse said when she finished the set. Her chest heaved as she smirked. “No wonder Dane’s kicking ass. You both got chlorine in the genes.”
Dane had attended every morning practice since that fateful therapy session. At first my teammates had ogled him in a speedo, but then they’d been awed by how well he kept up after years away from the sport.
“Fifty cool down!” Kathy called once the rest of my lane had finished.
As I swam easy backstroke, I thought about Dane and Mateo’s sudden interest in swimming. It was pretty obvious they’d colluded on a schedule to monitor me and keep me safe. Whatever they were doing was working—Blake hadn’t approached me for some time.
In the showers, Elyse didn’t even ask before she grabbed my shampoo. Mom had sent me expensive salon products that Elyse coveted, and I was happy to share my family’s largesse. I’d also finally answered a few of my mother’s calls. She seemed to sense something was off with me, but she hadn’t pressed too hard. And Dane had promised to keep his mouth shut after acknowledging he was to blame for Mateo catching on to the truth.
Elyse scrubbed her black hair. “Why’s Ramirez at every practice?”
“I already told you.” I squirted some conditioner onto my palm. “His agent Johnny intercepted some threats against my family, so he wants to keep watch over me. And where Johnny goes, Teo goes.
” A damn clever lie, if I do say so myself. Mateo had texted it to me when I’d told him my teammates were asking why he was always around.
“But why’re terrorists threatening your family?” She rinsed her hair.
“Hellooo? My mom’s a high-ranking senator.”
She massaged conditioner into her hair. “But she voted against the war on ISIS.”
I shrugged. The terrorists thought all Americans were infidels regardless of what we did.
“Why wouldn’t they go after President Ramirez? He’s the one pushing to destroy them.”
I turned off my shower and squeezed water from my mass of curls. “Why do you think Teo and Lucia have guards around the clock? It’d make a terrorist’s day to kill the president’s family.” As the words left my mouth, my stomach flipped. What would I do if something happened to Teo?
The feel of him holding me as I bawled had stayed with me for two weeks. He wasn’t a big guy, especially compared to Dane, but his hold had felt big. His heart was big. Whenever I felt scared now, I thought of him. His fresh scent of soap. His long fingers smoothing my hair. His sexy Spanish words.
I was clasping my bra when Mackenzie closed her locker. “Hey, roomie. You coming to the dining hall with us?”
“Yep.”
“Ace.” She leaned against her locker and watched me pull on my shirt. “So, are you dating that bloke? Mateo?”
I hid a grin. “No.”
“You sure? He’s defo into you.”
I wondered if I was “defo” into him, too. I sure thought about him a lot.
“Well, see ya at dinner.” She followed Kaylee and Emma out of the locker room.
When I got to the lobby, Mateo and his agents were waiting for me, just like after every practice. Teo wore flip-flops, raggedy jeans, and a long-sleeved red polo shirt. The color looked so good against his dark complexion.
It wasn’t a surprise when he asked, “Want to come over to the greenhouse?”
I’d turned him down every time—I just didn’t feel ready. And I didn’t want to talk about the rape with Mateo, Lucia, or Dane. Rehashing it with Dr. Valentine was bad enough.
“I’m meeting the girls at the dining hall.”
He nodded as his smile wavered.
“But you could join us if you want?”
His eyes widened. “Sure!” Then he looked at his red-haired agent, Karen. “Can we do that?”
She glanced at Johnny. After a beat, he nodded.
We fell into step together as we emerged into the cloudy coolness of late September. It had rained earlier in the day, and my shoes had gotten soppy walking to class. Mateo’s agents walked behind us.
His fingers played with his collar. “What’s the dining hall like?”
I gawked at him. He’d never been? I watched Johnny speak into his comm-link before we crossed the street, and realized Mateo probably had missed out on a lot of college experiences. I’d have to change that. “Substandard food. Don’t get too excited.”
“At least I won’t have to cook tonight.”
“Good point.” I didn’t know how Elyse and my other upperclass teammates found time to shop and cook with our busy practice schedule.
“You were killin’ it at practice today,” he said.
I smiled. “Thanks.” That had probably been my best practice at Highbanks. The fire in my belly had finally rekindled. Hot damn, I wanted to make the Olympic team.
“What’s it called when you keep switching strokes?”
“Individual medley, or IM.”
“You’re really good at that, huh?”
I shrugged. “It’s one of my best events. I like the variety.”
“Hmm. Kind of like playing different instruments.”
I’d never thought of it that way before. “Great analogy! I know you play guitar because I saw one in your room. Anything else?”
“Eh, I dabble a little in piano and keyboard. Tried bass guitar a few times. And Joey taught me how to play the flute, but I suck.”
“Is Joey one of your bros from high school?”
He shook his head. “She’s my best friend.”
She? I wasn’t expecting that one. He studied my reaction, so I tried not to show my alarm, but my mind raced. He had a female best friend? What did she mean to him? Had they dated? Kissed? Had another chick gotten to those sweet, plump lips before me? I aimed for a nonchalant tone. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s really gifted. She goes to Berklee.” When I tilted my head, he added, “It’s the top music school in the country.”
“Oh. Did you think about going there?”
“I didn’t audition because my parents wanted me to go here, for security. But I probably wouldn’t have gotten in.”
He’d lost a lot when his father had won the presidency. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Mom didn’t win. All the stares we were getting on our walk across campus certainly wouldn’t be welcome twenty-four seven.
“Do you and Joey, uh, talk much?”
“We text.” He grunted. “She told me she met someone already. He’s a cellist.”
Thank God! I couldn’t suppress my grin. When he caught it, he smiled right back at me. Damn! He knew I was relieved.
I scrambled to change the subject. “What were you writing when I was swimming?”
“A song.” His expression changed, and his pace slowed.
“Was it a sad song?”
He kept frowning. “A stupid song.”
What does that mean? “Will your band play it?”
“No. This one’s just for me.” He brightened. “But I hope they’ll play some other songs I wrote. Maybe I’ll get to sing backup. We rehearse on Saturday.”
“So you’re a vocalist, too.” I nudged his shoulder. “Very skilled, Señor Ramirez.”
He smiled at that.
“And I still haven’t heard you sing.”
“Well, I haven’t seen you swim in a meet.”
“But you have watched me practice.” I swallowed. “Thanks for being there for me.”
He nodded. “Siempre.”
Always. That word sounded a thousand times sexier in Spanish.
He looked at my hand like he wanted to hold it, but quite a few students stared at us as we reached the dining hall. Instead, he opened the door for me.
We entered the Tudor-style building, and I handed the worker my university ID. “Four swipes,” I told him. I waved away the money Mateo tried to give me. “I got this. It’s on my meal plan.”
“But I can’t let my date pay for dinner!”
I grinned. “We’re on a date?”
“Of course.” He smirked.
There was a flash, and I watched a girl lower her phone. When she saw me look at her, she spun around and ran back into the dining hall. Awesome. Our photo would be on Twitter in a heartbeat. I hoped my wet hair wasn’t too wild.
“Miss Monroe, we won’t let you pay for us,” Johnny said.
I took back my ID from the worker. “Too late, Officer Zucko.” I heard him grumble behind me as I picked up a tray and utensils. I arched an eyebrow at Mateo and gestured for him to get a tray, too. “Okay, dining hall virgin.”
His eyes flared.
“Here’s how it works. Get whatever you want—salad bar, sandwich, Italian, Mexican, Chinese—then meet me in the dining area. I’ll find my girls and get seats for everyone.” I noticed the agents were still empty-handed. “You guys need trays.”
“We’ll get Mateo settled and may eat later,” said Karen. “No need to find us seats.”
“Tsk. You’ll miss out on negative-five-star cuisine.”
Mateo chuckled.
I headed to the salad bar while Mateo roamed around the large kitchen area. Every student tracked his moves, and the kitchen workers lit up when he passed their stations like they were begging him to choose their food. He ambled past the Mexican station, but it was no surprise when he slid a couple pieces of pizza onto his plate. Typical college boy fare.
Mackenzie sidled up to me as I scooped cottage cheese onto my salad. “I heard you brought him to dinner. Good on ya!”
Apparently word had traveled through the dining area with the speed of a fraternity food fight. “I felt bad for turning him down all the time. Hope you guys don’t mind if he sits with us.”
“No worries.” She aimed a lecherous look at Johnny. “Who’s that blond bloke in the suit?”
“You sure like the blond boys, don’t you?” I remembered that swimmer she’d crushed on at the party our first night here. I felt myself tense, but I forced a deep breath. It’s September twenty-sixth. I’m in the dining hall.
“Eh, Christian’s cactus.”
“What?”
“He’s dead to me—keeps blowing me off. But that bloke’s tastier, anyway. More mature. Who is he?”
“Teo’s Secret Service agent.” I’d once held a candle for Johnny too, in high school before I’d met my boyfriend, Duncan. It seemed like a lifetime ago. When Mackenzie gave me a quizzical look, I added, “They protect the president and his family.” I drizzled vinaigrette, then picked up my tray. “Save us some seats?”
She nodded.
As I waited in the pasta line, Mateo approached with his agents behind him. He pointed to my tray. “That looks good. Where’s the salad?”
I angled my head to the left. “What do you want to drink?”
“Surprise me.”
Once I gathered a bowl of bow-tie pasta and meat sauce, I filled two glasses with ice water and two with lemonade. I was so thirsty that I downed a glass of water and refilled it as Mateo finished building his salad. “Ready?”
We walked into the dining area, where about three hundred students watched us. Probably half snapped photos with their phones.
“Sorry,” Mateo whispered.
I saw Mackenzie wave from the corner. “We’ll have to bring you here more often so the shine wears off.”
His mouth quirked. “Yes, we will.”
As we moved through the gauntlet of gapers, I glanced at his tray. “Their Mexican’s not auténtico enough for you, chile relleno?”
“That’s not it. Figured I’d stick with something safe after your warnings. Even they can’t screw up pizza, right?”
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